Capitol Royale
by pochapal
Summary: After a shocking display of rebellion from the tributes in the 67th Hunger Games, the youth population of the Capitol has begun to question, and even protest against, the concept of the Hunger Games. With the 68th Games looming on the horizon, President Snow and the Gamemakers have taken drastic measures, involving the revival of the most controversial law; the Battle Royale Act.
1. A New Type of Game

**A/N: Hello there! This is an idea of mine that I've had for a while, and only now have I found a way to completely make it work. As you have guessed, this is a Battle Royale/Hunger Games crossover. How does this work, you ask? Well, read ahead and see... ;D**

**I do not own the Hunger Games or Battle Royale; they belong to Suzanne Collins and Koushun Takami, respectively.**

* * *

Dew, the current head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games, rubbed her temples as she looked at the screen in front of her. She hadn't moved for days, and was suffering from a mild case of sleep deprivation and dehydration, but a vicious smile was growing on her face. She had just finished the virtual model of the next arena for the Hunger Games; a tropical island, complete with a volcano set to explode on the fourth night. It was all going perfectly, and would be her best Games yet.

Then again, it had to, especially after the horrible mishap in the 67th Games. The tributes from District 8 used the jabberjays in the arena to spread anti-Capitol messages throughout the arena, meaning that it was broadcast all over Panem. It meant nothing to those in the districts but a failed attempt at rebellion, but it had resonated something else within the Capitol. Whole schools of students had refused to watch the conclusion of the Games, instead protesting against the way the districts were treated. It was so absurd, that Dew had almost laughed when President Snow told her.

She didn't laugh, however, when half of her team of Gamemakers was executed on the spot for sparking rebellion within the Capitol.

But that was all water under the bridge, and Dew had far more important things to work on, such as Muttations. The only one set in stone was a Mutt that took the form of a tribute's loved one, manipulating them into dying. There were a few other ideas in her head, but she had yet to find convincing ways to implement them into the arena. Sure, a giant spider tearing tributes to shreds would be entertaining, but it wouldn't deliver the message of hopelessness to the districts, even though their reaction to the rebellious actions in the last Games was proof enough that their inner rebels had been crushed brutally. Sighing, Dew returned to the screen, pulling up the file for a toxic mushroom that released deadly spores on contact up, and began to work on it; several adjustments were in order.

Suddenly, light flooded into the room, and Dew shielded her eyes as she adjusted to the change in brightness. It was nearly midnight; who in their right mind would be entering the Gamemakers' chamber? But straight away, the smartly dressed figure in the doorway, with a white rose tucked into his suit, was instantly recognised by Dew. President Coriolanus Snow.

"Good evening, sir," Dew said immediately, without realising she had done it. After all, it was part of her training as a high ranking member of the Games to instantly address the president with boundless respect, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Actually, Dew," Snow said softly, but his words had a venomous edge to them. Dew swallowed hard. "There is something I want from you." He paused, reaching into his pocket. He fumbled around for a few moments, before pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper.

"Sir, what is this?" Dew asked, nervously playing with a strand of her deep red hair- the colour of blood- as Snow's snake-like eyes lit up. Even to the hardened Gamemaker, the snake eyes of President Snow instilled fear into her very being.

"This, my dear Gamemaker," Snow said slowly, almost in a patronising tone, as he unfolded the paper, "Is the answer to our problem."

"Which problem?" Dew replied, before clamping a hand over her mouth. Her light brown cheeks went a deep shade of red as she inwardly berated herself. How could she have been so stupid as to ask the president of Panem which problem they were talking about?! Snow was a perfect leader; there were never any problems. In response, Snow shot her a dangerous glare. It only lasted a second, but it was more than enough warning to the young woman.

"The problem that your team of Gamemakers, and a pair of dearly departed District Eight tributes caused." Snow replied coolly, glancing over at the piece of paper in his hands. Reading over something, the president let out an almost sinister chuckle, before handing the piece of paper over to Dew.

As Dew took the paper from President Snow, the leader of Panem cleared his throat, before continuing to speak, "Now, Dew. At first glance, this won't make sense to you," He began, "So I'll give you a bit of background information on the project."

"Okay, sir." Dew replied curtly, to which Snow nodded.

"So," Snow said, slowly pacing around the room, his feet making no sound against the polished hard floor, "As you are aware, the purpose of the Hunger Games is to simultaneously destroy hopes of rebellion in the districts, and entertain the citizens of the Capitol." Dew nodded confidently.

"It was such an inventive and original method of controlling the masses, sir." She said to him, to which Snow lightly shook his head.

"The truth is," Snow began, coughing into a handkerchief, "That the idea for the Games actually originated from the old world, from a country long forgotten by name." Dew's large blue eyes widened. Could that really be true? But the Games seemed like such a modern invention, that she had a hard time wrapping her genius head around it. But it raised yet another question; why would anyone else need the Hunger Games?

Dew was suddenly aware of a chill in the room, and looked at the wide open door, a faint glow from a light further down the hallway outside barely illuminating it a dull yellow. Something felt wrong about this whole situation, but she had no idea what it was. She glanced back at Snow, who was looking at her with a steely glare.

"Sorry," She said apologetically, "But what do you mean by that?"

"Ah, I thought that you would ask that," Snow began, a faint smile growing on his wide lips. Dew nervously swallowed, and wiped a thin layer of sweat from her forehead. "You see, this old world country was in a time of mild crisis; the youth population had completely defied the government, leaving the country's future unstable." He paused, wiping his lips with the handkerchief again, "So the top ranking officials came up with a solution to the problem, in what was perhaps the most controversial aspect of the old world." A grim smirk appeared on Snow's face once more, and Dew nodded. Everything about this was foreboding, but at the same time, she felt anticipation of what he would say next in such a calm manner.

"What was its name, sir?" Dew asked anxiously, her heart rate increasing. But she tried to ignore it; she had to remain calm.

"Battle Royale," Snow replied sharply, the words chilling Dew to the core. It sounded completely foreign, but at the same time, she knew that it was something fear-inducing.

But obviously, whatever this 'Battle Royale' was, it had something to do with solving the problem of the Capitol's youth population's rebellious thoughts.

"So, this Battle Royale, sir," Dew began, looking right into Snow's piercing eyes, "What does it entail?"

"I'll read from the old world law that passed it," Snow said, pulling out another neatly folded piece of paper. After unfolding this one, instead of handing it to Dew, he began to read from it, "In accordance with the Millennial Reform Act," He began, each word sounding cold and calculating, but powerfully vicious, "The BR, or Battle Royale, Program will serve the purpose of reforming the nation's youth." Dew listened intently, ignoring the anxiety that was building with every word. "This will be achieved by a single method; to randomly select a class of students, and send them to fight to the death in which a sole survivor will remain." Dew stiffened up. It sounded similar to the Hunger Games, but on a much more sinister level. A whole class of students killing each other? The mere thought of that sent a chill through her spine. Sure, the Games were similar, but you only really knew one person, so the emphasis was on your own survival, not killing off a friend.

"Sir," Dew began, aware of how loud her breathing was, "That does sound similar to the Games, but how will we use this, exactly?" She had an idea, but she wanted Snow to confirm it for her.

"We have already selected a class," Snow said calmly, a complete contrast to Dew, "And we will broadcast the entire spectacle to every household in the Capitol."

"Why not the districts, as well?" Dew asked without realising. She had been asking a lot of questions, but it was only natural for such a thing as this.

"Because, Dew," Snow replied, looking at her directly, causing the young Gamemaker to involuntarily shudder, "This is a matter within the Capitol. Word of this getting out would not be beneficial to the well being of the rebellious district citizens." Snow paused, looking at one of the monitors, which flashed with the image of a computer rendered ocean, "And this will be a one time operation, Dew, since the citizens of the Capitol aren't as stubborn as the districts. Watching their own turn on one another will be more than enough to quell the embers of rebellion."

Dew nodded in response. The last thing they needed was rebellion within the walls of the Capitol.

"But sir," She began to say, "How will we do this, exactly?"

"We will send the students to one of the old arenas, under the guise of a study trip, and send them out from a hovercraft placed near the Cornucopia." Snow explained, glancing at his wristwatch. It was rather elegant, with tiny little diamonds embedded into the strap, each carved into the shape of a rose.

"Any arenas in mind, sir?" Dew asked curiously, letting out a slight yawn.

"Actually, I do," Snow said, a malicious gleam in his eyes, "We're going to send these children to a fan-favourite of ours. Do you remember your very first arena?" Straight away, Dew's eyes lit up.

"Yes, sir, I do," She replied eagerly, "The sixty sixth annual Hunger Games, am I correct?"

"Indeed you are, Dew." Snow said, a dark chuckle escaping his lips, before he turned away from Dew. "I have to retreat to my mansion for the evening, so I'll leave this in your hands, Dew; do not disappoint me."

As the president of Panem walked out of the door, leaving the large room, Dew stood where she was, clutching the paper in her hand. Looking around to ensure that nobody was watching her, she walked over to the nearest desk, and unfolded the paper, reading over every last detail.

_Battle Royale: Survival Program_

_Modified by Coriolanus Snow II _

_The Battle Royale, affectionately known as the 'Program', is a survival program designed to deter rebellious behaviour from the youth population. It is done by selecting a class of students randomly, and forcing them to fight to the death until a lone survivor remains. _

_However, unlike the familiar Hunger Games, the Battle Royale has more rules to follow. Each participant shall receive a tracking collar (Model PN-001) to monitor their activities and vital signs. The key feature of the tracking collar is that each one is fitted with the same level of explosives seen in the launch pads at the Cornucopia in the Hunger Games. These collars can be remotely detonated by the overseers of the Program. In addition, the collars will also detonate if a participant attempts to remove it from their necks. The collars will be disabled at the end of the Program._

_As well as this, the Program also has a time limit of 72 hours, and if more than one participant is alive at the end of this time period, all collars will be detonated, and there will be no winner. This will also happen if 24 hours pass with zero deaths. In addition to this, the collars can also be detonated if the participant walks into a danger zone- a restricted area of the playing field, which increases in size every hour. The new danger zones will be announced every six hours, according with the announcements._

_The announcements will occur daily at 06:00, 12:00, 18:00, and 00:00, and will announce which participants died, in order of death. This is done to remind the participants of who is still alive on a regular basis. _

_The participants will be given supplies for the duration of the Program- a large duffel bag with three days' worth of food and water rations, a map of the playing field marked with zone squares and a pencil, a list of the participants, and a randomly assigned weapon. This will be a mixture of old world weapons, weapons commonly seen in the Hunger Games, and a few novelty items for the unlucky. The participants will receive this equipment as they depart from the starting point, as well as receive the tracking collars. The participants will leave the starting point in alphabetical order, in a male-female fashion at two minute intervals. After this, the participants will be left to their own devices for the three days, and will not be able to contact the outside world until the winner emerges, and is treated for their wounds._

_The winner shall receive lifetime compensation, and counselling sessions to be reinstated into society once more. The winner will also have the privilege of being granted the offer of the highest status occupations, once they are capable of safely functioning in a social environment._

_The list of participants for the Battle Royale Program (Class 10-E, Mixed status high school):_

_Boys:_

_#1 Nero Antonius_

_#2 Felix Bellicianus _

_#3 Marius Drusus _

_#4 Rufus Favonius _

_#5 Dexter Fidus_

_#6 Macro Honorius_

_#7 Maximus 'Max' Hosidius_

_#8 Castus Libo_

_#9 Geta Oppius _

_#10 Donatus 'Don' Platorius _

_#11 Super Pupius _

_#12 Verus Septimius _

_#13 Petra Tadius_

_#14 Victor Thoranius _

_#15 Noricus Volteius_

_Girls:_

_#1 Urbana Aelius_

_#2 Lalla Ammonius _

_#3 Julia Caelius _

_#4 Arria Cassius_

_#5 Sulpicia Eprius _

_#6 Claudia Ingenuius _

_#7 Italia Minicius_

_#8 Lyris 'Lyra' Octavius_

_#9 Olympia Petillius _

_#10 Musa Pomponius _

_#11 Irene Pupius_

_#12 Rufinus 'Red' Roscius _

_#13 Quarta Sallustius_

_#14 Epria Terentius _

_#15 Posilla 'Posy' Tuccius _

Dew grinned at this, despite the nature of it. It was essentially another Hunger Games, only in familiar territory, in which she had even more control over the events. She quickly turned on the nearest computer, and loaded up the control files for the 66th arena. There were several modifications that were in order for this to truly destroy any rebellious thoughts; the odds were not going to be in anyone's favour this time around.


	2. A Class Divided

**A/N: Hello again! Here we have the first glance at a few of the students. You may notice that they aren't as wild as several Capitol citizens in the actual novel are, but you must remember that they're still kids, and that they're not all from the same extravagant background; it allows for a more diverse cast. So, without further ado, the next chapter!**

* * *

The mid morning sun shone down on the gleaming golden streets of the Capitol, illuminating a single bus in a golden sheen as it drove down the road, the driver eagerly focused on the road ahead as he headed to the large building at the top of the hill; the mixed status high school. After all, his life was on the line if he didn't successfully transfer all thirty students from class 10-E to the hovercraft park; President Snow himself had requested this.

* * *

Nero Antonius (Boy #1), sat on a desk, looking over the chaos that was his classroom. Ever since the 67th Hunger Games, the majority of the population of the school had descended into wild protests and rebellious actions. At least nobody had lost their lives. Yet.

In the midst of all this madness, the sapphire adorned door slowly opened, revealing Nero's life-long best friend, and girlfriend, Lyris 'Lyra' Octavius (Girl #8). She was slightly shorter than Nero, and had wild cerulean coloured hair that fell to halfway down her back. Her pale complexion helped to frame her lavender eyes, which lit up at the sight of her best friend.

"Nero!" She cried out, running over to him, wrapping her arms around him. Nero returned the hug, his lightly tanned arms wrapping around her as the two embraced lovingly. "I'm so happy today!"

"Why's that?" Nero questioned, smiling warmly at his girlfriend as she ran her fingers through his spiked up electric blue hair.

"You don't remember?" Lyra responded, genuinely sounding disappointed. Her eyes fluttered a few times, and her smile faded away as she pulled away from the hug.

However, just as Lyra was on the verge of crying, Nero reached into his bag that was laying on the desk behind him, and pulled out a neatly wrapped box. Straight away, Lyra's face lit up, and tears spilled from her eyes as Nero handed her the gift.

"How could I forget our anniversary?" He told her as Lyra let out a giggle at her gift. It was a light blue necklace, with a diamond pendant. The diamond had Nero and Lyra carved into it, kissing; their first official couple photo.

"It's perfect," Lyra said softly, before running back into Nero's loving embrace, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Nero replied. He was about to say more, but the door to the classroom opened as their teacher, Mr Valerius, entered the room.

"Settle down, class, settle down," He called out, his brown suit glowing softly in the sunlight as a paper aeroplane flew past him, sailing through the air to the board, and crashing in a heap on the floor. "I said, settle down." He repeated, more sternly this time, and the whole class sat down at their desks, paying close attention to their teacher.

"Oh boy, two whole hours of boredom," Nero heard his other friend, Petra Tadius (Boy #13), say. "Kill me now."

"Mr Tadius, I heard that." Mr Valerius said, giving a stern glare to the pale haired boy, who smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, sir." Petra mumbled, his grey eyes looking down at the golden tiled floor below, nervously twirling his thumbs.

"It's alright, Mr Tadius," Mr Valerius replied, smiling kindly, the slightest of wrinkles forming around his eyes. It appeared that he was in need of some youth-replenishing surgery, but nobody said that, out of respect. "Now, we have a surprise for all of you," He said, his voice catching ever so slightly at the end of the sentence that Nero barely caught notice of. But it was still there, and he found himself wondering about it. It was quite clearly something that he wanted to share with the class, which meant that there was every possibility that it would be something decent, for once. "In accordance with your history of the Hunger Games classes, we have arranged a class trip to several of the arenas."

The response was instant. Half the class erupted in protest, and half celebrated. Nero was part of the latter; sure, the Games could be brutal at times, but it was nothing more than some entertainment on television. And, besides, it meant that he got the entirety of the Games off from school on top of the two months that he already had off each summer. The 60th Games ended up lasting exactly two months, meaning that he got four months off that year, and hopefully the 68th would be similar.

"Are you serious?!" A voice rang out, and Nero turned to see Claudia Ingenuius (Girl #6) standing up from her desk, her deep brown eyes glaring at Mr Valerius. "You expect us to go to the place where two dozen innocent kids were forced to _slaughter _one another for our amusement?!" Several others joined in with the dark haired girl's rebellious words, and the cries of protests grew louder.

"Settle down!" Mr Valerius suddenly snapped, causing every student to instantly go silent, their eyes wide. Mr Valerius never, ever raised his voice. At least, not like that. "Now, please, return to your seats so that we can discuss the plans for the trip." Out of fear, those who had left their seats sat back down, looking at one another nervously.

Mr Valerius then walked over to his desk, and picked up a clipboard with several files attached to it.

"Now, I will read out the procedures," He said calmly; a complete contrast to how he was mere moments ago. "The arena chosen for our trip is the one that the sixty sixth Hunger Games took place in." Nero's eyes opened a little wider. The 66th was one of the more memorable Games, since both he and Lyra managed to watch the whole thing live, in addition to the endless excitement that the Games provided. He glanced over at Lyra, who gave him a coy smile. She was looking forward to this as well. "We will set off this morning, and will stay for up to three days. Whilst there, there will be several activities to take part in, such as watching re-enactments of the highlights, such as the feast and the opening bloodbath." Several murmurs of excitement now filled the room, but Claudia remained silent, her chocolate brown eyes glaring harshly at the class teacher.

"How freaking _marvellous_," She mumbled under her breath, turning to face Lyra. "Please tell me you feel the same way."

Lyra froze up. What could she say? She didn't want to agree with Claudia, out of fear for being punished, but she didn't want to get on the tough girl's bad side.

"Well, yeah," Lyra casually replied, "I mean, up to three days? What the heck?!" It was true; she didn't exactly feel excited for spending up to three days simply looking around an arena they had seen on television countless times.

"I feel the same," Claudia replied, going to high-five Lyra. She raised her hand, and the two girls' hands connected, "It's disgusting." After a brief shake of her head, Claudia turned away from Lyra, and began speaking to a few more students about the trip. Lyra let out a sigh of relief, and sank deeper into her seat. That was a close call, and it had been so easy to pick a side, and end up saying the wrong thing. Too close.

"Now, class," Mr Valerius began, looking out of the window, "The bus has arrived, so if you all walk outside to it in an orderly fashion, we can set off without any problem." The moment he finished saying this, all thirty students swarmed out of the classroom, and into the pristine hallways; some out of choice, others caught in the stampede.

Nero managed to burst out from the crowd, and staggered into the wall, knocking over a group photo from another class. It fell to the floor, and the glass frame shattered, causing him to back away from it, his shoes squeaking on the floor.

"Nero!" He heard a voice cry out, and he saw Lyra pushing out from the back of the crowd, staggering towards him. He also walked towards her, and the two hugged, panting slightly.

"You'd have thought that they'd never been on a bus." Nero said lightly, chuckling. Lyra giggled, before breaking away from the hug.

"Come on," She said, walking down the hall, holding Nero's hand, "Before there aren't any seats left."

The pair walked down the halls, hand in hand. Their shoes squeaked against the floor, the high pitch sound echoing throughout the empty space. In the distance, Nero could hear the sound of his other classmates' voices; they had probably reached the bus.

"We should hurry up," Nero said to Lyra, motioning in the general direction of the exit to the school. Lyra nodded, and they continued down the halls, only faster. They turned a corner at the end of a hallway, and faced the staircase, each step lined with shining gems. For some reason, Nero had always felt uncomfortable about using the stairs; he constantly worried about breaking a gem. If that happened, he would have to pay a large amount of money to get that gem shipped out from District 1, and he didn't want to do that.

Carefully, Nero walked down the stairs, Lyra following him. The sound of a clock ticking was now apparent; Nero couldn't locate it, though. Lyra held on to the banister, looking at Nero. She hated it when he looked uncomfortable like this, and since she knew about his ridiculous problem with the stairs, there was nothing she could really do. It was almost laughable, but not when Nero dreaded using these stairs. Sighing, Lyra continued down the staircase, reaching the bottom.

"Finally," Nero said, looking down the hall. The large glass double doors were at the end of the hallway, and even from here he could see various marks on them from students running at them. "Well, let's go." He said with a warm smile, taking Lyra's hand. She smiled back, and the two ran down the hallway, reaching the doors in no time. Lyra reached out, and pushed them open, walking out. Nero followed straight away, and they took in the warm air.

The sun shone brightly in the sky, lighting up the grey tarmac of the road leading into school, and a large bus was parked just outside, several students climbing into the vehicle.

"What are we waiting for?" Nero said teasingly to Lyra, kissing her on the nose, "Last one there has to spend the journey there with Mr Valerius!" Of course, they wouldn't in reality, but it was enough to get Lyra to laugh, and take off down the steps leading up to school, towards the bus.

"In your dreams, Nero Antonius!" She cried out, running across the road.

"Oh, that's it!" Nero yelled back, sprinting towards her, quickly catching up. They ran side by side, laughing as they drew closer to the bus.

"You aren't getting there first!" Lyra cried, laughing between each word. She sped up, Nero doing the same, and they both ran into the doorway at the same time, the two of them unable to both get in at the same time.

"Well, seems as if neither of us has to be with him," Lyra said, giggling and panting, before Nero flashed her a cocky grin.

"That, or both of us have to do it." Nero replied, and they began to laugh again.

"Let's not." Lyra said, and stepped onto the bus, Nero behind her.

Once they were both inside, the sound of the students reached their ears. Nero saw them; some were sitting; others were gathered at the back, talking loudly. It was this simple observation that led him to the conclusion that this was going to be one chaotic trip. Looking around, Nero quickly noticed two free seats, and grabbed Lyra's hand, taking the two of them to the vacant space. As they sat down, another figure walked calmly onto the bus, holding a clipboard; Mr Valerius.

"Now, class," He spoke up, his voice calm, "I expect you to follow the safety procedures during the trip, so as to prevent any unnecessary injury." He looked over all of them, before fixing on Nero, "Mr Antonius and Miss Octavius, that means put your seat belts on."

"Oh," Lyra said quietly to herself as she pressed the button on the side of her seat, causing the seat belt to shoot around her, safely sealing her in her seat. Nero was quick to follow, and they both looked at Mr Valerius, who nodded in approval.

"Now that that's sorted, we can-" Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening bang rang out, and the teacher fell to the floor, blood oozing from his back. As he slumped to the ground, it was soon made apparent who was behind this; the bus driver.

A collective scream came from the bus full of students until the driver waved the rifle in the air, glaring madly at them all.

"You will all shut up, or I will shoot!" He yelled, before firing another shot at Mr Valerius, causing his now pale body to twitch. Lyra's eyes widened as the urge to vomit surfaced, but the sheer shock of the situation had paralysed her. She simply looked on at the scene in front of her, shaking. Nero put an arm around her, but the seat belt made it hard to properly comfort her.

"What's happening?" She whispered faintly to Nero, who simply shrugged his shoulders, trembling.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps filled the silent bus as the driver walked over to the wheel, and pulled something over his face; Nero recognised it as a gas mask, which was used during the Dark Days to protect the citizens of the Capitol against the rebels. But why was the driver wearing it? Nero still questioned this as the driver pressed a button near the steering wheel. A low beep echoed out, and a barely visible gas began to seep through the air vents. The cloud filled every inch of the bus, and Nero began to choke, but the sound was lost to the wailing of his classmates. Lyra let out a shriek, and as she did so, Nero let out a yawn as a wave of drowsiness overcame him. Another yawn quickly followed, and he slumped forwards, asleep, the gas having done its job.

"Oh god, Nero!" Lyra wailed, tears streaming down her face. She had to get out; it was the only logical thing she could think of at the moment. Her hands flew to the emergency release button for her seat belt, only to find that it wasn't working. "Oh, please, no..." She whimpered, and buried her face in her hands, beginning to feel drowsy as Nero did. But just as she passed out, she realised that the gas smelled like strawberry shampoo. After that, she slumped over, losing consciousness.

The bus fell silent once more as the remaining students also fell asleep, and a minute later, the driver pressed the button again, and the mist faded away, clearing out the vehicle. He pulled off his mask, and took a deep breath, before sitting down. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a communication radio. He turned it on, and spoke clearly into it.

"Head Gamemaker Dew, the class is ready."

* * *

_**30 Students Remain**_

_**72 Hours Remain**_


	3. Waking Up in Hell

The first thing that Lalla Ammonius (Girl #2) registered was the faint scent of strawberry shampoo. Straight away, she knew something was wrong; she would never associate with such common brands such as strawberry. She forced her pale blue eyes open, and looked around.

She was strapped into some form of seat, and her normally perfect flowing pink hair was a bedraggled mess. Lalla held in the urge to scream as light flooded into wherever she was, the brightness blinding. Blinking several times, Lalla looked to her right, and saw Julia Caelius (Girl #3) rubbing her wide brown eyes groggily. What had happened? She remembered boarding the bus, and talking to her friends about how she was going to get feather implants for her 18th birthday next month, and then...

A gasp burst from Lalla's lips as she remembered her last moments on the bus. The driver had shot the class teacher, Mr Valerius, before gassing them. Fear began to well up inside her, and tears began to pour from her eyes, causing her brand new mascara to smudge. Thank goodness there weren't any mirrors around.

A low humming sound reached Lalla's ears, and she looked above her to see a slightly rusted air vent blasting a warm breeze directly onto her. At least the mystery of her hair disaster was solved. But that wasn't what was on her mind at the moment; Lalla had been gripped by panic as her eyes darted around the room she was in. It was the hovercraft used to transport the tributes to the arena in the Hunger Games, and she was strapped into one of the seats.

Lalla looked at the surrounding seats, and saw her classmates all coming around, and reaching the same conclusion as her. Several of them went pale with fright, whilst one released a terrified whimper. Normally, Lalla would laugh at such peasant-like behaviour, but the fact that she had ended up inside the tribute hovercraft was far more worrying, and judging by the noises, it was running.

"Lalla?" A voice cried out weakly, and Lalla looked to her left, seeing her best friend, Olympia Petillius (Girl #9) looking at her, terrified. "Lalla, what's going on?"

"I don't know, Olympia," Lalla replied, her voice trembling. "I really don't know." She swallowed nervously, and realised that her throat was dry. How long had they been out for? At least long enough for her to feel thirsty.

As Lalla thought this, several other voices began to speak up, each one filled with concern and fright.

"Don, are you alright?"

"Italia?"

"Lyra, it'll be okay. Just keep calm."

"I can't get out of my seat!" This last statement caused Lalla to reach for the release button, and press it. Nothing happened. She pressed again, panic rising, to be met with the same result. She was trapped in her own seat. A wave of nausea hit her, and Lalla shut her eyes to block out the horrific situation. She didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, she didn't want to be part of it, regardless of whether or not it was suited for someone of a high status such as her. She wanted to go home. In fact, at this current moment in time, she'd rather be in her dull English class than here. At least she had a sense of familiarity there.

This period of shutting out the world only lasted about a minute, however, as a new sound reached Lalla's ears; the sound of heavy stomping. She opened her eyes out of reflex, and looked at the far end of the room, seeing the automatic doors slide open. As they did so, the entire class fell silent, everyone looking on at the figure calmly walking in; it was the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games, Aria Dew. Her flaming red hair was done up in a simple ponytail, and if it weren't for her position of power, the woman would have probably been shunned for looking so much like a beauty base zero at her age. Dew calmly walked in front of the confused students, the slightest of smirks present on her face. It sent chills running along Lalla's body.

Following the Gamemaker, several Peacekeepers stormed in, two of them wheeling in a trolley full of large duffel bags. The bags were a dark grey, and Lalla instinctively rolled her eyes; grey bags had gone out of fashion seven months ago. The bag was left in the middle of the room, and the Peacekeepers lined the walls, looking at the students with severe expressions. This was when Lalla became aware that she was shaking. However, she didn't have time to be bothered by this, as Dew spoke up, glaring maliciously at the class.

"Ah, hello there," She said in a tone that dripped with false sincerity, "Now, unless you're psychic, you're probably all wondering what in the name of Panem is going on right now." Several students nodded, and Lalla froze up, unable to respond. Her heart was pounding loudly, and the urge to scream was rising. "Well, let me tell you." Dew pulled out a remote control, and pressed one of the buttons. The wall behind her lifted up, revealing a large screen. "Pay attention, class."

The screen flickered to life, revealing the smiling face of a young man with deep blue skin, and short hair styled like a snowflake. The sheer positivity radiating off of his face strangely unnerved Lalla more than it should.

"Hello there!" He suddenly exclaimed, catching Lalla off guard. She stifled a squeal, and looked at the screen, practically holding her breath. "If you are seeing this, your class has been selected for the Battle Royale!" The name had no meaning to Lalla, but it seemed to strike terror into her very core. "Now, what is the Battle Royale, you ask?" The class remained silent, despite the video's reaction. "Well, let me tell you!"

The screen faded from the man to a computer generated map of what appeared to be a city, with a green park in the middle of it. As Lalla looked over it, her heart sank into her stomach; it was the arena for the 66th Hunger Games. The man appeared in the corner, and let out a giggle, before continuing.

"As you can see, this is a highly detailed map of the playing field; the purpose of it to provide a marvellous backdrop to the main event! That is, you will all kill each other until only one remains!" This time, Lalla didn't hold back her scream. She began to squirm around in her seat, and looked around at her classmates, who were all reacting in a similar manner. Surely this had to be a sick joke of sorts; that sort of thing only happened with the scum in the districts during the Hunger Games. At least, that was what Lalla hoped.

"This may sound similar to the Hunger Games, boys and girls, but believe me, the Battle Royale is a whole new way to play!" Lalla felt sick, and each word seemed to make the urge to vomit rise. "You see, instead of all the festivities and training, we will be going straight into the killing; how exciting! In addition to this, there will be no Muttations, or traps, and the Battle Royale, or Program, has a time limit of three days!" The room felt like it was spinning, and Lalla clenched down onto the seat, tears flowing down her face. This wasn't happening; it wasn't right!

"Now that we've had our little introduction, let's move onto the main event!"

A series of grid squares appeared on the map of the arena, each one labelled with a letter and a number. The bottom left square was labelled A-1, and the top right square was labelled J-16. The man looked up at the grid, and smiled, before addressing the class once again.

"As you can see, the playing field is divided into equal sections, or 'zones'. These zones have a very special purpose. Starting from 06:00, we will make announcements every six hours until the game ends. These announcements will contain two things; which classmates died during that period in order, and the danger zone announcements. Danger zones aren't good, boys and girls, because if you get caught in them... Boom!" Lalla jumped at the sudden volume of the man, and wiped her eyes, only to cause more tears to flow. "You will lose your head! Now, this is all done using a very special collar: The PN-001! These will track your vital signs during the Program, letting us know when you've died, instead of cannons announcing your death. In addition to this, they are packed with explosives, which will detonate when you're caught in a danger zone, or if you try to remove it!" An image of the collar appeared on the screen; a flat silver band which would easily fit around someone's neck. The mere sight of it caused Lalla's hand to fly to her neck. There was nothing on it. She sighed in relief, and looked back at the screen.

"You will receive this collar as you depart into the Program, and if you resist wearing it, we will shoot." Dew added in coldly, glaring at the silent class. She motioned to the Peacekeepers, who all cocked their rifles. Lalla sank into her seat, whimpering softly to herself, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"As well as your collar, you will also be supplied with a supply bag!" The man spoke again, laughing to himself as he picked up a grey duffel bag that looked identical to those on the trolley. "Inside each one you will find the following," He paused, opening the bag, pulling out the contents, "First up, a plastic wallet containing a map, compass, and marker pen to navigate the playing field!" He lifted up said item to the camera, and Lalla noticed that it was attached to a strap that would clip around her neck. But the colour would completely clash with her outfit; that shade of brown was simply too much for one to bear. "And next up, three days' worth of food and water!" The man showed about five bottles of water, and several wrapped food bars. As Lalla looked closer, she resisted the urge to gag at what it was; a bar of Tesserae grain held together with cheap syrup. This was peasant food that even the scum from the districts wouldn't go near, if the comments from the Hunger Games were anything to go by; Lalla recalled one year when the boys from 5 and 8 bonded over a mutual hatred for the filthy food. They were pretty funny, and it was a little bit disappointing when they were torn to shreds by panther Muttations on day 13.

"And finally," The man spoke up again, his tone becoming ever so slightly more ominous, "A randomly assigned weapon!" He reached into the bag, and much to Lalla's horror, pulled out what appeared to be a less glamorous version of a rifle used by a Peacekeeper; an old world weapon, if her studies had any value. The man looked at the weapon, and his face contorted into one of surprise. "Well, look at that! I got really lucky this time! But..." Another bag appeared, and he pulled out a beach ball, "Not all of you will be as lucky! You see, the weapons were put into each bag before we had any idea about you guys, meaning that nobody will have an unfair advantage with weapons!" This idea seemed to shock Lalla more than it should. In the Hunger Games, you could see which weapons were available, and hopefully grab your preferred weapon before the other tributes closed in. Here, they were all at the mercy of the Battle Royale's random selection; there was every chance she'd end up with something as pathetic as a beach ball. As Lalla thought this, she went pale. Already she was thinking about how useful her weapon would be; she was contemplating how effectively she would be able to kill. Lalla began to breathe heavily, but forced herself to continue watching. "That's everything!" The man cried out, waving at the screen, "Good luck to all of you, and I hope to see that one of you makes it out alive!"

The anthem of Panem played from the speakers, before Dew switched the screen off, and stared at the students coldly.

"Now that the video is out of the way," She said, "We shall begin this thing. You will depart this place in male-female order at two minute intervals, and will receive your bag and tracking collar before entering the playing field. Once the final student, girl #15, leaves, the hovercraft will depart, and won't return until the end of the Program to pick up the winner, if there is one." She let out a light sigh, and looked over the students, her cold glare sending shivers throughout Lalla's body. Dew walked over to the far right of the hovercraft, and pressed a button on the wall, causing the door to open up, revealing the night sky of the arena. Lalla swallowed, shaking. The reality of the situation hit her once again.

"I don't want to go out there," Lalla heard someone say, but didn't dare look who, instead watching as Dew picked up a clipboard from the trolley in the middle of the room, and began to read from it.

"Boy #1, Nero Antonius," Dew read out, "Your seat lock has been disabled; grab your supplies and go to the exit of the hovercraft, where you will receive your collar." Lalla looked over at the blue haired boy, who quickly freed himself from the confines of his seat. Nero stood up, and shakily walked over to Dew, who handed him one of the grey bags. Swallowing hard, he walked over to the open door, where a Peacekeeper immediately walked towards him. A clicking sound reached Lalla's ears, and she saw the source of the sound: a thin metallic band with several inactive LED lights was now attached to Nero's neck. He let out a light whimper, and the Peacekeeper pushed him out of the exit. The sound of him running filled the air for a brief moment, followed by suffocating silence.

Two minutes later, Dew called out the next name; Girl #1, better known as Urbana Aelius. Her seat lock was disabled, and she shakily stood out of her seat, her legs not seeming to cooperate with her brain.

"Urbana Aelius," Dew warned, "If you do not leave the hovercraft before I call the next name, then you will be shot. Your choice, but the clock is ticking, Urbana." The grey haired girl tensed up, before grabbing the bag that Dew tossed at her. Urbana's expression became steely as the collar was placed on her neck. And as she ran out of the hovercraft, she spat onto one of the Peacekeepers' boots; a symbol that you would rather be with the scum of the poorest section of the poorest district than here. All fell silent once more, and Lalla felt herself on the verge of crying again.

"Boy #2, Felix Bellicanius, your seat has been disabled. Grab your supplies and collar, and leave immediately." Felix was quicker than the past two students, running at Dew. She passed the bag, and Lalla watched in disbelief as he gave Dew a tense nod of gratitude, standing still in the doorway as one of the Peacekeepers placed a collar around his neck. He muttered something under his breath, and vanished into the night. Dew remained stony-faced, not showing any reaction to the boy. Just like how Lalla had imagined a true Head Gamemaker to be like; cold, calculating, and ruthlessly intelligent. And as these thoughts ran through her head, Lalla realised that she was perceiving Dew as an enemy instead of a celebrity.

"Girl #2, Lalla Ammonius, your seat has been disabled. Grab your supplies and collar, and leave immediately." Lalla's blood turned to ice, and her eyes went wide as her seatbelt opened up. Her breathing grew heavier, and she felt a scream rising from the depths of her throat. But she had to get out of here, or face certain death. Willing herself to move, Lalla's legs stiffly carried her across the floor, to the trolley. Dew threw the bag at her, and Lalla managed to catch it. It felt heavy; it probably contained a large weapon. Lalla caught herself thinking like this, and felt tears running down her cheeks. She didn't dare look at her bewildered classmates as she approached the exit of the hovercraft. A Peacekeeper walked up to her, and slid something cold around her neck. It felt suffocating. A faint bleeping rang out for a moment, before the collar settled down. Lalla barely had time to look up at the Peacekeeper before he shoved her out of the hovercraft.

Stumbling down the ramp, Lalla took in the arena. It was exactly as she remembered it from the Games; the Cornucopia was just to her right, the normally gleaming mouth dulled in the moonlight. It felt haunting, to say the least. She reached the bottom of the slope, her feet hitting the ground below. The ground was slightly blackened; where the girl from 6's plate had exploded. More ghosts of the past. And even though all she wanted to do was break down and cry, Lalla found herself heading off into the trees that surrounded the starting zone, vanishing into the foliage.

Lalla took one last look behind her, seeing the faint form of the next student leaving the hovercraft. A wave of panic took over, and she ran ahead, her heart pounding in her chest, the realisation not yet dawning on her; this was most likely going to be the final three days of her life.

* * *

_**GAME START: 00:00**_

_**TIME ELAPSED: 00:37**_

_**TIME REMAINING: 71:23**_

_**PLAYERS ELIMINATED: 0**_

_**PLAYERS REMAINING: 30**_


	4. In the Dark

Italia Minicius (Girl #7) ran down the street, heading south of the starting zone, and into zone E-6. Her curled caramel hair was a complete mess, but for the first time in her life, she had other priorities besides her appearance. The large clunky bag pounded against her side as she ran; that would cause bruising later on. If there was a later on. Italia tried to control her breathing, but just ended up yelping. The sound echoed off of the tall buildings that lined the street, lasting for much longer than ideal. Her eyes widened, and she clasped her hands over her mouth, running to the nearest building, and pushing open the pristine glass door. Her hands touched the surface that was reflecting the moonlight perfectly, and moved through, into the building.

One look at the building quickly identified it as a hotel; Italia was currently in the lobby. The reception desk was in front of her, perfectly waxed wood. On top of the desk was an open book. Out of curiosity, Italia walked over to it, and saw several names written into there. Almost instantly after looking at the names Italia's blood turned to ice.

_Check-Ins:_

_1. Hollie, age 15_

_2. Cole, age 14_

_3. George, age 13_

_4. Annabel, age 15_

_5. Byron, age 17_

_6. Mysty, age 17_

_7. Pennie, age 16_

_8. Ash, age 12_

_9. Swift, age 16_

_10. Lynn, age 16_

_11. Garry, age 18_

_12. Ruby, age 18_

_13. Samuel, age 12_

_14. Kai, age 16_

_15. Luke, age 17_

_16. Jay, age 14_

_17. Olyver, age 16_

_18. Sheen, age 18_

_19. Tara, age 16_

_20. Kathrynn, age 15_

_21. Martyn, age 15_

_22. Liam, age 17_

_23. Sara, age 18_

It was listing all the tributes of the 66th Games, in order of death. Italia felt a mixture of sickness and dread looking at the names. She had watched these kids die on television, and celebrated it. Dear lord, she even found it _entertaining_. Just the thought on its own was enough to cause Italia to tremble, and begin to sob. But she couldn't cry; crying would draw attention. She tried to do breathing exercises again, but her breaths just ended up being short and raspy. Far too much noise to be made for where Italia was. She looked around the lobby again, and saw a door to her left, with the conspicuous label of 'stairs'. To her right was an elevator. The pair of silver doors were shut, and to the right of them was a panel with a button: the button that controlled the elevator. Italia found herself looking at it long and hard. If there was still electricity, then maybe, just maybe she could use it to get to the top floor as quickly as possible. But she needed some way of testing the electricity to see if it worked. The darkness was really a problem to look, but Italia finally saw it on the other side of the reception desk: a light switch, the golden colour of it giving off the slightest of shimmers. That would do. That would do.

Italia crept over to the desk, and vaulted over it, landing on the other side. The contents of her bag rattled as she did so, but the sound quickly died down. But, just to be sure, Italia looked behind her, and out of the window. The streets outside were still empty, and still dark; if only there were street lights, then it would be much easier to see. But there weren't any of them in the Hunger Games, so why here as well?

Returning her attention to the light switch, which was just to the left of a book shelf, Italia quickly approached it, but then, her hand lingered over the switch as her heart began to pound. Turning on the light would practically make her a beacon for anyone looking out there, and if it attracted the wrong kind of attention, then game over. But at the same time, she needed to know if the elevator worked, and this would be instant in telling her. And besides, it would only be for a few seconds. Just a few seconds; anyone who saw it wouldn't think anything of it. Yeah, that was right. Just a few seconds...

Italia's hand pressed down on the switch. Instantly, bright light flooded the dark room, revealing the floral wallpaper, and the green carpeted floor. And most horrifyingly, a few dried up flakes of blood on the window pane. For a moment, Italia was seized by fear. That could be one of her classmates' blood. Which meant that a killer could be lurking nearby. But who would try and kill anyone? Nobody from Italia's circle of friends; they were all peaceful girls that would never attempt to cause harm. Then who?

As Italia felt herself on the verge of screaming, she remembered: this blood was preserved from the moment in the Games when the boy from District 2 chased down the girl from District 8, and massacred her in front of her district partner and his alliance. This was a stray splatter of blood, preserved for the nostalgia factor. And to think, Italia's parents had arranged for them to go to this arena during the school break for this year's Games as soon as the winner was crowned. They would have adored this section of the arena; Italia's mother in particular was highly fond of the big confrontations that had high body counts. By her standards, they were truly the most exhilarating moments. By Italia's standards, it was a tragic frenzy in which nobody knew who was getting out alive. Sometimes it was all involved, sometimes it was none. Italia leaned toward the former, which was almost unheard of. It was like it was some unwritten law that all Capitol citizens must enjoy every aspect of the Games, like it was the most entertaining thing ever. Italia preferred the game shows that aired on television during the evenings when the Games weren't happening; they provided the same competitive air, minus the horrific carnage of innocent young lives being cut short.

Suddenly, a scream was heard in the distance. Italia began to tremble, realising that that meant there was someone else pretty close by. Her eyes grew wide, and chills spiked throughout her body. If that person was screaming like that, it could only mean that they were being attacked. And the attacker would most likely find Italia right away; the light made her a flashing target. She had to turn the light off. With a shaking hand, Italia reached over to the switch, and flicked it up. The light died, leaving her alone in the shadows of the night. There were no more screams.

Italia slowly crept out from behind her desk, clutching her bag closely as to not make any more noise, and approached the elevator, her shoes creaking on the odd floorboard that she stepped on. Every time it happened, she froze, not daring to hold her breath until she was sure it was safe to continue. Because of this, it took her around ten minutes just to cross the lobby to the elevator. But she managed to make it there in the end, breathing heavily due to the thick fear in the air. Her hand reached towards the button to the side of the elevator, and pressed down on the cold metal. A ping rang out, and the button lit up a bright green. Light that would be easily seen. Panicking, Italia covered the light with her hand, preventing the glow from shining out, until the elevator doors opened, and light from the elevator flooded into the room, illuminating everything in an eerie glow. She rushed into the elevator, and dumped her bag on the floor beside her; it caused the metallic floor to vibrate as it hit the ground. Italia looked over the array of buttons on the inside wall, and not looking at any of them, simply pressed the top button.

"Going up to: the top floor apartment." A metallic voice suddenly filled the elevator as the doors shut, causing Italia to scream. She gripped onto the railing inside the elevator, the chrome slightly warm to the touch. She figured that was due to the heating of the place still being on; that thought calmed her. There were a thousand worse possibilities that flooded through Italia's head at that moment, and she was glad for such an explanation.

The elevator suddenly lurched as it began to rise upwards, catching Italia off-guard. She lost her grip on the railing, and was thrown to the floor, slamming her arm on the ground. Italia winced in pain, and shakily stood up. She rolled her shirt sleeve up, revealing her porcelain-like skin, and the massive bruise that was now forming. Well, it could be a lot worse, at least. She could be trapped in a room with someone else out to kill her, instead of being in this large hotel, in relative safety. Another ping sounded out, and the elevator came to a stop, but this time Italia was ready for it. She gripped on, hard, and remained standing.

"You have arrived at: the top floor apartment." The metallic voice fell silent once more, and Italia grabbed her bag, lifting it onto her good arm, and walked out of the slowly opening doors. The light of the elevator allowed her to see the door to the bedroom at the end of the hallway just before the doors shut, sending Italia into relative darkness once more. She crept slowly along the hallway, her footsteps muffled in the thick golden carpet. The walls were lined with a lime green wallpaper, and covered with various paintings of several victors of the Hunger Games. For some reason, these images caused Italia to feel more terrified than she already was. Every one of these people had twenty three ghosts haunting them, and they would have to live with the knowledge that in order for them to still be here, they had to watch nearly two dozen others die. Just like this situation. This realisation caused Italia to freeze with horror. Tears dripped down her face, and she shook softly. In order for anyone to live, all of their classmates would have to die. The people they grew up with. Just to make an example of them. Italia felt herself slipping quickly into despair, before the fear brought her back. She couldn't space out like that. Not now. Not when she had to keep focused to prevent her untimely death. Not that she was at risk or anything; she was the first one here, and would be fine staying in this building throughout the game. Unless it became a Danger Zone, but she wasn't worried about that. She walked up to the large wooden door at the end of the hallway, and placed her hand on the pristine metal handle. It was warm. Just like the elevator. But she didn't pay it another moment's thought, and pushed down, opening the door.

Italia stepped inside the bedroom, and instantly felt the trapped heat wash over her. This room had clearly not been opened since it was built, and had just been gathering heat. But that meant nobody else was in here with her, which was good. She stepped further inside, and shut the door behind her carefully, making sure it looked as if nobody was here, in the event that someone else tried to come in. She set her bag down on the bed, and walked across the room to the window, which was just next to the large wardrobe in the room. It took some pushing, but the window finally opened, a cool night breeze blowing into the room, cooling it down. Italia took a deep breath. She would be okay here, and she could even get some sleep, which was more than what could be said for most of her classmates tonight. A yawn escaped from Italia's lips; she really was that tired. Rubbing her eyes, Italia walked across the room, and to the bed. She stood in front of it for a moment, and reached for her bag.

And that was when the hand shot out from under the bed, clamping around Italia's ankle.

Italia let out a scream of terror as she was thrown to the ground, her head slamming against the floor. A dull thud of pain filled her head, but she didn't stop screaming. Another hand grabbed her other ankle, and she started to be pulled under the bed. Italia gripped onto the carpet in a vain attempt at saving herself, but it was futile, and the girl slipped under the bed, and out of view of everyone.

"Hey, Italia," a voice said. Italia's blood froze as she recognised it immediately: Castus Libo (Boy #8). "It's been a while since we talked." She could faintly see his brown eyes glaring at her in the dark, and his twisted smile.

"Get away from me!" she yelled, and delivered a punch in his general direction. She made contact with something, a leg, if she had to guess. Castus simply laughed.

"Now, now," he said. "We don't want this to get violent, do we?" He reached down, and lifted up something. The faintest light reflected off of it, and Italia instantly recognised it: a large butcher's knife.

"No..." she whispered.

"Yes..." he whispered back. In one swift motion, he pulled his arm back, and swung it towards Italia. The blade sliced across her throat. The excruciating pain was instant. Castus crawled out from under the bed, pulling his bag with him, leaving Italia down there. She was laying on her side as the blood pumped from her body. She tried to breathe, and began to choke on the blood. Her collar was stained a deep red from all the fluid. And then, before she could do anything else, the blood stopped pumping, and Italia fell limp: she was the first kill of the Battle Royale.

Castus reached over onto the bed, and grabbed Italia's bag. He opened it, and pushed through the food and water until he found her weapon. His hands found something heavy and metallic. He lifted it out of the bag, and set it down on the bed. It was a pistol, fully loaded, and perfect to kill with. Castus chuckled darkly, and threw the knife on the ground, holding the infinitely more useful weapon instead. He shoved Italia's food and water into his own bag, and discarded Italia's bag as well. His supplies had now doubled, and he now had one of the better weapons this game had to offer; there wasn't much better than a gun. Giving one last look at the pool of blood that was now seeping out from under the bed, Castus ran out of the room, and towards the elevator, smiling to himself. The game had finally begun for him, and he was going to ensure that he was the one to return home.

* * *

_**TIME ELAPSED: 01:11**_

_**TIME REMAINING: 70:49**_

_**PLAYERS ELIMINATED: 1**_

_**PLAYERS REMAINING: 29**_

_**ELIMINATIONS: MINICIUS, ITALIA (GIRL #7)**_


	5. Fight or Flight

Super Pupius (Boy #11) and Irene Pupius (Girl #11) stood leaning against the wall of one of the countless skyscrapers that filled the arena. Super stood nearer to a corner, whilst Irene was stood with the bags. Strangely enough, they both had only received half of a weapon each; Irene had been given a string-less bow and ten arrows, whilst Super had received a length of wire and ten more arrows. Together, they had one bow between them. It was almost as if Dew was mocking them for being twins; they shared a deep bond that no other two students had.

Super glanced back at Irene, who was holding an arrow idly, looking around nervously. Super held the bow tightly, having strung it up with one arrow. His hands were shaking out of fear, and tears were dripping down his face. He ran a hand through his spiked up red hair, letting out a shaky sigh that almost became a sob. He was older than Irene by thirteen minutes, and despite how minuscule that gap was, he almost felt an obligation to keep her from harm. And Irene shared a similar need to make sure her brother was safe. Of course, that didn't prevent them from getting competitive with each other at school events; both of them always had their eyes on the prize, and they thrived in such an atmosphere. In fact, both were sure that if one of them was ever in the Hunger Games, then they would fight tooth and nail to return home to the other one, but the two of them, in here, in this Battle Royale, together...

"Super," Irene said, still holding her arrow. She turned to face her brother, her red locks moving from her tear-stained face. "What do we do?"

"I don't know, Irene," he replied, glancing around the corner again. It was pitch black, so he couldn't see anything, but his hearing was still there. There was no sign of anyone though, just the choking, foreboding silent darkness.

"I mean, what if it comes down to us?" Irene asked, her voice low and trembling. Super felt a chill run through him, before his heart felt like it was being crushed under an iron grip.

"I..." he began, but trailed off. He had no answer to that question. No response to the ultimate fear.

"You want to know what I think?" she asked. Super nodded, although she couldn't really see that. "I think that we shouldn't really be thinking about that. Not now."

"But why?" Super replied. "It's entirely possible that that could happen, Irene."

"I know," she said. "But I don't want to think about that right now."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"I suggest we focus on staying alive," Irene said. "You remember how when we were kids, we always used to joke about how if one of us ever went into the Hunger Games, we would easily win and come home?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Well, as much fun as that was," she explained. "That was all just fantasy. This is the reality, Super. We aren't in an arena with complete strangers, we're in with our classmates. The people we've known for nearly a decade. Our friends." Irene let out a sob. "I don't think I'll be able to kill anyone, Super."

"Me neither," Super replied. It was a lame response, and he knew it, but he had nothing else to say. Irene had already said what needed to be said. Neither of them would be able to kill the people that they grew up with. It would just be appalling to even consider. And Super was sure that nearly everyone else here thought the same. He looked up to the sky: the moon was shining behind a layer of cloud, preventing any light filtering through. And for a moment, Super wondered if anyone was willing to kill out there. Nobody came to mind when Super thought of the possibility, but how well did he truly know his class? Enough to know that none of them would turn to killing?

Super slumped against the wall, and slid to the ground. He buried his face in his hands.

"Hey," Irene said. "You okay?"

"No," he replied. "I'm not okay at all, Irene. Not at all." Super went to continue, but found himself choked up with emotion. He began to sob softly into his hands. This was hell. He just knew it. This was the fate worse than death. And there was no escaping it.

* * *

Musa Pomponius (Girl #10) ran swiftly through the darkness of the night. She stayed close to the middle of the road, in order to keep her bearings as best as possible. One look at the sky told her that there wasn't going to be any moonlight at all; it was far too cloudy. She paused at the corner of the street she was running down, breathing. She hadn't really stopped since she was let out of the hovercraft: adrenaline had kept her going. At first, she had been confused and slightly apprehensive about this whole situation, until she assessed it. She had three days left to live unless all of her classmates were dead. And that was one thing she did not want. So the answer to how she was going to go about the next three days was obvious: she would simply take down the other classmates.

Honestly, she wouldn't be surprised if she was the only one out there actually considering killing. The others were either pacifists, anti-Games and all violence, or just plain terrified. Nobody out there would really last that long with a serious player like herself about. But so far, she hadn't had any luck in finding anyone. The thick darkness of the night didn't help her in that area either. It was almost as if the game was telling her to wait until daylight before she started to play. But there was one thing about Musa that made than an impossibility: she was not one to wait.

A cold breeze blew through the empty street, sending a shiver through Musa. She cursed softly at her choice of outfit: a light sleeveless vest top and a pair of shorts with running shoes. In no way was this an appropriate outfit to be running around an old arena in. But she would have to make do; it was only for three days anyway.

Musa tightened her grip on her randomly assigned weapon: a steel baseball bat. It was heavy to hold, but not uncomfortably so. For perhaps the only time in her life, the extra sporting classes her parents signed her up for would actually be paying off. She made a mental note to thank them once she got out of here, which wouldn't be too long, hopefully. Although, Musa wondered if any of the parents had stirred up a fuss back home. Probably, considering their children had been taken from them, and were fighting to the death in a sick parody of the Games. Part of Musa hoped that her parents hadn't protested, and at the same time, she didn't care. They were in the past now for her. The present was simple; survive, and fight. Win. Take them down. It wasn't exactly too hard to understand.

She re-adjusted her duffel bag, and kept moving down the street into the shadows. At the same time, Musa ran through a mental list of her classmates. Which ones would be potentially a threat? There was the drama club, which consisted of about six or so members of the class, including that stuck-up snob Lalla. Just because her father worked as part of the prep team for District 1's tributes in the Games seemed to make her think she was some sort of princess. Musa detested people like that. But that group was known for its excellent Games-inspired plays; they could all convincingly put on a death scene. And no doubt that knowledge would come in handy. Then there were a few of the guys, but since none of them had taken the Peacekeeper training class, they most likely were very limited in what they could do. Of course, there were wild cards and oddballs to take into account as well, and Musa couldn't think of anyone that would fit that category at this current moment in time. Perhaps if she had made more of an effort to socialise in school she would be able to predict accurately how everyone would respond to this situation.

Musa sighed. Not that any of that really mattered now anyway. The only important thing here was to be the last person standing in this arena. Not too hard of a task, but at the same time, it could prove to be more difficult than initially anticipated if anyone was going to pull a fast one and start killing. But Musa was sure that was unlikely. Almost entirely sure.

Reaching the end of the street, Musa turned again, switching the baseball bat to her left hand. It was a pretty good weapon, but tiresome to be continually carrying. She'd probably have to rest pretty soon as well, much to her dismay. She was running on empty nearly, and unnecessary exhaustion would only lead to-

Voices. Musa went completely silent, not even daring to breathe. She listened again. There were two of them talking. One male, one female. She ran through her head who it could be. Nero and Lyra? They were pretty close. No. Nero's voice was deeper than that. And Lyra had a mid-class dialect. These voices were both low class. Which only left one option in Musa's head: the twins, Super and Irene Pupius. She smiled. Oh, they would be easy to take down, and if one of them died, then the other would also succumb easily. Musa tightened her grip on the baseball bat, and edged closer to the corner of the building. The voices were much clearer now, and she caught snippets of conversation.

"...Not okay at all, Irene..."

"...Entirely possible..."

"...Focus on staying alive..."

"...This is the reality..."

Judging from the tone of voice, both were absolutely terrified. Musa ran through her options. Scared was both good and bad. It could either make a person break down, or it could make them try and murder their attacker. Fight or flight, basically. And how it would all play out depended on how the two would react. Musa gripped her bat tightly, and began to walk towards the sources of the voices.

* * *

Super had now managed to stand up again, but still was leaning against the wall. He was trembling and stifling choked sobs. His shaking hands were holding the bow a little tighter than was ideal. Irene had gone quiet, probably thinking over this entire situation again in her head. She was good like that; Irene always came up with great plans when the time came. Super shook his head slightly, and let out a sigh. It was false hope to think that Irene would come up with some great plan to save both of them; it was just impossible. He glanced over at Irene again, seeing that she was stood against the wall as well, holding her bag. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but then Irene's expression and stature changed. It was painfully obvious even in the faint light that the girl had suddenly become terrified. And she had just enough time to utter out two words before all hell broke out.

"Behind you!"

Super swung his head around to see a figure rush at him. He nimbly leaped out of the way, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide, and his grip on the bow had tightened. For a moment, the figure remained still, until the clouds parted, allowing moonlight to shine down on the three of them. The luminous silver glow revealed who the attacker was: Musa Pomponius. She was holding a metallic baseball bat, and looking at the two students with murder dancing in her eyes. However, that lasted for less than a few seconds, because Musa then rushed right at Super.

He barely had time to adjust his grip before Musa swung her bat. It caught his left knee, causing a horrific loud cracking sound to erupt from it, followed by an intense amount of pain. Super fell to his knees, sobbing.

"Musa, what are you doing?" he said, his voice high and shaky.

"What's it look like?" she said with a dark smirk. "I'm playing by the rules." With that said, she kicked Super in the stomach. Hard.

Blood dribbled from Super's mouth as agony slowly took over him. Panic was now setting in. He was going to die if he didn't do something. He looked behing Musa, and saw that Irene was frozen in horror. Musa didn't seem to have noticed her just yet. Or if she did, she wasn't doing anything about it. Super looked to the ground instead, seeing the arrow that had fallen from the bow. Swiftly, his arm went out to grab the arrow, but before he could, Musa stomped on his wrist. He felt the bones shatter, and wailed in agony.

"Na-na-na," she said. "I'm smarter than that, Super. It's over for you." Super began to breathe heavily. All of his body was in pain, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. Not with Irene still there, and still potentially in danger. He tightened his grip around the bow, and raised his good arm, jabbing the end of the bow at Musa's face. She simply caught it, and pulled the end down. The cheap wood splintered, and then shattered. The small chunks of wood fell onto Super's lap.

Musa then grabbed the rest of the bow from Super's grip, and untied the knots in the wire, freeing it. Super looked on in horror as the grim realisation dawned on him: she was going to choke him with the wire. He was powerless as he felt the cold cord wrap around his throat, slowly constricting his flow of breath. But at the same time, he watched as Musa tied a bow into the ends of the wire, leaving it hanging there as Super began to feel light-headed.

"There we are," she said. "Just like a present. Gift wrapped and all!" She laughed at her own creation, but Super didn't. He stared at Irene, who was trembling in horror, and with the last of his energy, mouthed a single word to her.

_Run._

Super fell back, unconscious. Musa then grabbed a chunk of the bow, and jabbed it into his exposed throat. She pierced it, and blood spurted from it like a disgusting fountain. She stood up, and saw Irene. This was going to be easy.

Musa ran at the girl, but Irene, in her defence, lifted her arms to her face to protect herself. Musa ran right into Irene's bony elbow. The blow was hard enough to send her staggering backwards. She then tripped on the other piece of the bow, and fell head first into the wall. She was unconscious within seconds, breathing heavily.

Irene stood at the sight of the carnage. She felt like she was going to scream, and at the same time, fall to the floor, and curl up in a ball. But she couldn't do that; Musa was right in front of her. And there was no telling how long she would be out for. Sobbing, Irene gave one last look at her twin brother. But instead of the young man that she had grown up with, all she saw was a mutilated display. The wire tied like a ribbon, and the wood protruding from his throat. It was disgusting, horrifying. And real. Deadly real. The realisation slapped Irene across the face. Her twin brother was dead at the hands of her classmate. Too much for her. Too much to accept. Too much!

An anguished cry of horror came from Irene's lips, before she grabbed her bag, and ran away from the scene. And as she did so, some distant part of her wondered if she had died on that bus, and that this was simply her being tormented within the depths of hell.

* * *

_**TIME ELAPSED: 02:23**_

_**TIME REMAINING: 69:37**_

_**PLAYERS ELIMINATED: 2**_

_**PLAYERS REMAINING: 28**_

_**ELIMINATIONS: PUPIUS, SUPER (BOY #11)**_


End file.
